“I have a dressing room.”
Minutes later, Justine stepped out wearing the shirt with her faded jeans and sandals. She looked down at her bagged Koshari shirt and smiled, knowing Darrius would be on her chest tomorrow and would hopefully be in her body later that night.
14
PRE-FESTIVITIES
Driving down Route 66 wearing her squash necklace and Crow Mother shirt made her really feel like a part of all the festivities. She smiled knowing Darrius would be more than happy to make her a part of his life and his culture, and she would let him.
The Ranch Kitchen was just ahead, and she could hear her stomach growling for its famous Southwest barbecue. Her stomach had begun churning while she was in the basket room at Peko’s on Coal. She hadn’t had anything to eat since the buffalo stew at Red Rock the night before.
Food. That was her immediate goal. By two, she was sitting in front of a plate of pork, barbecued to perfection, with side orders of coleslaw and corn on the cob. Her server was the uncanny image of the 1920s actor Tom Mix—or so he seemed to think he was. He was dressed in the typical Western attire, including a ten-gallon hat and cowboy boots pointier than the tip of a Ginsu knife.
As she ate the tender ribs, her mind drifted to Darrius and his question—being his girlfriend. The thought warmed her, making her smile at the possibility of being in a man’s life after being alone for so long. Past lovers had been duds, so instead of getting hooked up with yet another one of those, she had thrown herself into her photography. Destiny, and her ability to capture the perfect shot landed her straight into the arms of a new lover.
Sipping from the tall glass of iced tea, she wondered how a long-distance relationship would work for them. California wasn’t too far from New Mexico, but far enough to be lonely for a lover in the middle of the night. Even if she left California to live in Gallup, what about her job? She loved her position, had the freedom to select almost any assignment she wanted. Would she have that freedom at a major magazine or newspaper in Gallup? She’d probably have to start on ground level and work her way up. She already had a track record at The Examiner. What about leaving her family and friends? Could she really leave them? She had a life in California and wasn’t sure whether she wanted to risk it for the sake of an incredible love affair that could possibly last until…infinity! Choices!
She could find excuses for not staying in Gallup, though the possibility of remaining pressed on her mind persistently. Darrius was a priceless find. He treated her like a queen, catering to her, giving her everything he knew she wanted even before she knew she wanted it. His tender touch was so unlike anything she had ever experienced. She didn’t know if she’d be able to give that up. Justine always found herself between a rock and a hard place, always letting her imagination take her to far-fetched places. This was a new relationship with Darrius—if that was what it truly was. For Christ’s sake, she had just met the man and knew she had to slow down.
First things first was the only way to handle that kind of situation. Number one: Call her editor, Sid, and tell him she needed at least another day and would fly out Tuesday. Number two: Take more pictures and try to shoot for photojournalist of the year in the Southwest region with her photos on native people. Third: Get away from the table before she ordered another plate of ribs.
Ordinarily, the scenery along Route 66 was awe-inspiring and would take her mind off everything, but her suddenly acute awareness of circumstances predominated her thoughts. It seemed the only way to clear her mind was to visit Darrius and talk about it. Not an option. He had things to do. Instead, she pulled to the side of the road and took pictures of the mountain ranges against a clear blue sky. The peaks of the ranges seemed to pierce the sky with their upward stretching points. Shadows of desert red, chocolate brown and tan never ceased to amaze her.
Having to pass Red Rock State Park on her way back to the hotel presented a dilemma. There was that ever-present desire to return to the road that had led her toward danger; the same place that had made her teeth rattle, her skin sweat, her eyes swell shut—yet she was driven to see if she could make it to the top. There was something she had to prove to herself; was she actually afraid of the mountain itself, or afraid of disappointing Darrius?
She didn’t want to be afraid of anything because it would eventually get in the way of her career. There were always more peaks to discover for the sake of that once-in-a-lifetime shot. Did she love her job that much? So much that she was willing to try to prove herself invincible? She would never know unless she tried it again.
The entrance to Red Rock seemed to call her, and upon passing through the park entrance, she faced that forbidding winding road that had made her hair stand on end. She stopped at the foot of the road and peered up. Eyes barely open, she stared into the great unknown—the road to stories, petroglyphs. What a story awaited her and her camera.
Justine pressed the ignition and heard the car’s engine rev, rocking back and forth. The rounded cliffs and jagged edges seemed to be holding their arms out to embrace her. Her throat tightened and her skin was becoming moist under the Crow Mother shirt. Her sweaty hands pressed against the shirt while her eyes fixed on the sight before her. The muscles in her driving foot wanted to press the accelerator; her right hand ached to put the gear in drive. She didn’t. There was something not right about where she was, and she truly hadn’t any idea if it was physiological or out of respect for Darrius. There were no answers to any of her questions that day.
She saw a way out. Then and only then did she put the gear in drive. Once she felt the car easing away from the road to doom, her throat loosened, her skin dried and her mind relaxed. No, she didn’t have to do it. She could just get back on the road and go to the safety and comfort of the Red Rock Best Western—the safest place in town.
Just one look up the forbidden road of Red Rock had made her so thirsty she had to pull into a service station for a bottle of water. By the time she made it to her room, the large bottle of water was gone. What was it about that place that intrigued her? Maybe it was both monsters agitating her at the same time: Darrius, and the smallness of the car. Right, as if a larger vehicle could make everything else go away. Whatever the case, Justine removed her clothes and jewelry and plopped naked onto the bed. She fell into a deep and restless sleep.
* * *
Justine awakened and stared through a window now playing host to a fading sun. God, what time is it? Six o’clock; she had slept a good two hours, but still had time to take care of business before meeting Darrius at the powwow.
She flipped on her phone and called her editor’s cell. “Sid, Justine. You got a minute?”
The booming voice of the fifty-ish, go-for-the-gusto editor answered loud and clear, “Sure, what’s up?”
“I need another day or two here.”
“Problems?”
“None to speak of, but I would like to take shots of them dismantling the powwow grounds on Sunday. I think seeing the remnants of the ceremonial grounds after the powwow will make a great ending to the story. Think of it; I start with photos of the opening of the day parade, have all the extras in the middle, including the night parade and end with the exciting dismantling of the grounds. Sound good?”
“You can make anything sound good, Justine. You’ve shown me with your other assignments. I got the other pictures you sent over and they’re terrific. See, I knew you would do the powwow justice—just like you did for the one in Arizona.”
“I was glad for the opportunity. It’ll take me another day to pack everything up and tie loose ends. Can I have until Wednesday, maybe?”
“We’ll need to get those pictures in if it’s a go for the first paper in September.”
“It goes out mid-August anyway, and Wednesday will only be the ninth of the month, so there’s time. You’ll be really ecstatic with what I have. Come on, two more days, Sid.”
“Fine, but your ass better be back here Wednesday morning.”
“You really are a sweetheart, aren’t you?”
“I try.”
“First thing Wednesday. My ass and everything else will be on the plane. Promise.”
She hardly wanted him to know that she needed more time with Darrius, so she had made it a business-only request. Darrius was her little secret, for as long as she could keep him a secret. The way things were developing between them, he would soon take over her life. And she would let him. Gladly.
She next called the airport and changed her ticket. She then took a long shower, sudsing up with the frankincense soap Darrius had bought her. She wanted to smell like heaven to him that night and dress to show she had an appreciation of his people’s customs. Though she would wear the Crow Mother T-shirt, she would change into clean jeans and wear her new jewelry. And simply for his benefit, she would wear her hair tied back in a long braid, wrapped in a silver braid clasp—she wanted to look as traditional as possible. The squash blossom hairstyle wouldn’t work for her; it stuck out way too far on the sides and made her ears look bigger than they already were. Besides, she knew the style was only for women with an impending marriage. She thought about the statement again. “Marriage, huh? Maybe the squash-blossom style is just what I’m looking for. If I’m married, wouldn’t I have to stay with my husband no matter where he lived? I wouldn’t have to worry too much about my career.” She smiled, knowing she would never give up her career and would insist on having both it and Darrius. The idea of marrying so soon after meeting a man was a far-fetched one, but it amused her nonetheless. The long braid it was.
Justine entered Red Rock State Park by seven that evening, but deliberately did not look at the forbidden road that seemed to plague her each passing day. Instead, she checked her makeup in the rearview mirror and put on more Pink Passion lip gloss.
Once parked and inside the main arena, she looked down at her camera bag, hoping she’d be able to take more photos that night. That would be a fantastic added feature for the photo spread. What she really hoped for was to get more pictures Saturday night at the main event where Derrick would be dancing. His dancing would be part of the Palolokong performance; it was a traditional dance usually done on the mesas, but there would be a special performance for this year’s powwow. Lucky for her she picked the right powwow and the right year. Also lucky for her she had the right spirit guide to tell her of such things—Darrius.
Minutes later, Darrius came up behind her holding a tray with two corn enchiladas, two bowls of buffalo stew and something hot in Styrofoam cups. “Right on time, as usual. How was your day?” he asked.
Justine spun around. She hated to think she was reacting like Pavlov’s dog, but the sound of Darrius’s voice could easily make her salivate. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. He gleamed, looking super healthy and sexy, with remnants of the fading sun shining against his dark hair. His turquoise necklace resting within the V of his half-opened shirt gleamed brilliantly against his honey-tinted skin. “Well, look at you. I love the feather in your hair and the fringes on your jeans. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were here to dance.”
“Hardly. You know my views on that subject.” He saw the camera bag on her shoulder. “You know, you may not be able to use your camera tonight. The traditionals are very skeptical of cameras.”
